Snippets
by ShakespeareIsMyMuse
Summary: The random events, goings-on, and short conversational bits and pieces in the daily lives of the Five-0 Task Force—including any and all individuals that they may encounter; basic drabble—piecemeal plot lines which will drift in and out of cannon and AU.
1. Luncheon Conversations

ShakespeareIsMyMuse

 **DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.**

 **I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional; unless otherwise noted*#*.**

*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.

 **Enjoy.**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **SUMMARY:** The random events, goings-on, and short conversational bits and pieces in the daily lives of the Five-0 Task Force—including any and all individuals that they may encounter; basic drabble—piecemeal plot lines which will drift in and out of cannon and AU.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Snippets**

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 **Luncheon Conversations**

 *****H50*****

The U shaped booth by the front window contained three of Five-0's five members. Steve McGarrett sat lengthwise— his legs crossed at the ankles— on one end, Danny Williams sat with his back towards the restaurant— his good knee bent up on the booth seat— alternating between staring out the window and his colleagues as they talked and ate, while, "Oh, I don't think this was the best idea," Lou Grover said stretching in his seat and leaning his head on the felt-like backrest.

"What? Coming here?" Steve asked before biting off a piece of boneless rib meat he had pinched between his fingers. "You were the one who got all excited about Chop Suey and Lo Mein after Danny said he had a taste for pork fried rice and dumplings."

Eyes closed, "No, I meant about me sitting in the middle," Lou clarified while massaging his stomach.

Steve caught Danny's eye— there was a twinkle in it— "Full Lou?" the blonde teased.

"Kind of like when they over fill the good year blimp." Lou groaned a little bit as he spoke.

"We might have to pull him out."

Danny seemed to inspect the table for a second. "Is the table bolted to the floor?" he asked, shaking it a bit. "We could roll him out, straight through the door. Punchbowl is semi-downhill from here, if we push him and if he can manage to make that turn quick enough he'll probably come to a stop right in front of The Palace."

Steve cracked a huge grin.

"Oh, I'm with Danny, let's do that. Anything sounds better than walking."

This time, Danny laughed.

"Well this looks like a table of three satisfied men," the waitress said as she approached.

"Extremely," Lou said from his spot.

The woman smiled. "Would you like me to wrap up your left overs and you can take them with you?" she asked, before quickly turning her head and saying, "Good bye," to a couple with three rowdy young boys and a sleeping infant. "I know our portions tend to be quite large," she finished.

The three men exchanged a glance and agreed.

"Okay, I will be right back with a tray."

Turning his head to the side Lou glanced out the huge window and laughed. "I think both of those dads prefer the perfect sleeping little girl," he said noticing the hand sewn Alice in Wonderland blanket hanging over the edge of the carrier.

The man with the jet black hair, had tossed his hands up, stalked over to the brown haired man, snatched the carrier from him and pointed off down the street at the three boys who were racing to the corner. The brown haired man must have called out to them, because one of the boys stopped and walked back towards the black haired man when the brown haired man pointed to him.

The black haired man waited with his hand out until the boy took it and then began walking in the opposite direction.

The brown haired man then broke out into a run as the two remaining boys darted across the street. Cars quickly slammed on their brakes as the three crowded the area. One woman even tossed an obscene gesture out her driver's side window.

"Mm, mm, mm. Now if I had done that as a kid I would have gotten two or three dozen good solid whacks on my behind," Lou said at the sight.

"In public?" Steve wondered.

"No…well, yeah actually, but that was only once. I was seven and spending the weekend with my grandparents. I had just learned a brand new curse word in school."

"Uh oh," Danny said.

"Uh oh is right my friend," Lou nodded. "We were going to into church and I didn't want to go; I wanted to go play with my friends. I let my new found word slip, right there in front of my grandmother and all of her friends. Oh, let me tell you, you did not want to make my grandmother mad; that woman could break a brick with her hand. And she did just that. She hauled me over to a chair, pulled my pants down right there in the vestibule and put me right over her knee. There was a huge mirrored wall as you came in and let me tell you _I never knew my black ass could get so red_."

Danny and Steve were trying to hold in their laughter.

"Then she made me sit all through church and when we got home my grandpa gave me another spanking for disrupting church. Not as bad as grandma's, but on an already sore bottom?"

"Ouch," Steve said.

"Ouch doesn't quite cover it," Lou winced at the memory. "Then the rest of my punishment was that I had to sit on the front porch step all day until dinner, watching all of the other kids in the neighborhood play. I was never so happy to see my parents in my life when they finally came to pick me up. And I never uttered a curse word again…"

"Lou I've heard you curse," Danny broke in.

"Yeah, buddy, me too," Steve added.

"…until my grandparents both passed. Let a man finish his story?"

"Sorry," both men apologized.

"Nowadays, anyone sees a kid getting spanked like that, DYFS would have the kids, the police would have the adults and the news and the public would be screaming about what child abusers they are," Lou said.

"So I take it you spanked Will and Samantha?"

"No, Renee and I _**never**_ spanked the kids. A light swat here and there when they would do something stupid or dangerous. Like try and touch the burners on the stove or almost run out in front of a car, but _**never**_ like that."

"My grandparents never handled discipline. If I or my siblings ever did anything while we were with them they would just tell my parents when they came to get us, if one of us didn't rat the other out first."

Lou furrowed his brow, "Danny, your mother told me that the only rule in your house growing up was that you had to love each other."

"That was my mom's rule, dad was a little different," he explained. "If one of us brought home a bad grade and had to get it signed, he'd usually give you a pretty good whack on the butt as you walked away. If Mattie and I were wrestling around trying to kill each other for whatever reason, he yank us apart and throw one of us on the couch and hold the other against the wall. Or if we were all in a mass huddle ripping into each other he'd whack us on our butts while trying to break us up. But I think that was mostly to get our attention. Usually the five of us screaming could really drown him out."

"What about you, McGarrett. Your old man ever drum on your backside?" Lou wondered.

Steve thought for a minute, "Mm, once. Mary was about eleven months old; she had just learned to walk. I had this Spiderman comic book that I had left on the coffee table while I ran to the bathroom. When I came back, she had taken it, pulled out the whole middle, and – since she was still teething— had slobbered drool all over the cover. I yanked it out of her hands, hit her and pushed her down to the ground. She started crying; my mom came in picked her up and my dad took me out to the lanai and…that was the first and last time I ever hit or pushed my sister."

Lou and Danny both chuckled.

"Actually that explains a lot," Danny said. "A lot of times when Mary does something that makes you mad, you do look like you want to hit her, but then you just end up hugging her really, really tightly instead."

"What can I say; it was a lesson that'll stick with me the rest of my life. I can't hit my sister, I'm not allowed, even if she is my sister."

"Does she hit you?" Lou wondered.

"All the time," Steve and Danny said in unison.

The three men broke out in laughter as their waitress came back with an empty buffet cart. "Sorry for the wait, we had a little ice spill in the kitchen. And when there is water all the floor, it's all hands on deck to clean it up."

Danny shook his head, "No problem. A busy kitchen is a terrible place for a slip and fall."

"Any place."

"Well thank you for being understanding. Here are some fortune cookies," she placed a red plate down on the table, "while I wrap your left overs," and began moving the plates to the cart.

Reaching for a cookie, Danny opened it, " _'You will be hungry again in one hour'_. Lou, this must be yours after you roll on back to work," the blonde quipped, handing over the piece of paper.

Steve chuckled from his spot. Danny did an excellent job of holding in his smirk; though he would have preferred to let it slip. Lou cracked his trademark smile and chuckled.

Lou broke open his fortune cookie, " _'Marriage lets you annoy one special person for the rest of your life'_." The Captain slid his eyes over to Danny, "Oh shut up," and then to Steve, "What are you looking at me for?" before he began humming the wedding march. He then laughed again as both men gave him a shove on his respective shoulders.

"What'd you get buddy?" the inquisitive detective wondered.

Breaking the cookie with his thumb, the sailor pulled the little strip of paper out, turned and raised an eyebrow questioningly at the blonde.

"Well?"

"' _Marriage is like a walk in the park'._ "

Lou gave a belly laugh and tossed his head back once more.

"…yeah, maybe _Jurassic Park_ ," Danny deadpanned.

Lou laughed even louder.

Despite never being married, Steve smirked at the comment and then decided to tease his partner some. "Well, you know what they say, Danno, ' _A fire that burns too hot burns itself out'_. And you and Rachel were at hot as it comes."

Danny furrowed his brow, "Isn't it, _'_ _The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long'_?"

"Oh, is that it?"

"Yes, Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching? Are you just checking to see if I read?"

"How am I supposed to know what you've read in your life?"

"Because it was your book, I borrowed it, remember?"

"Yes and I also remember that you took it with you when you moved out."

Lou popped his head back up, "You two used to _live together_? When the hell was this?"

"Five years ago," Steve answered.

"I'm _**sorry**_. I'll give it back. I probably just stuck it in the bookshelf when I finished."

"Why were you living together?"

"Eh, keep it, I have another one."

"My apartment building got bought some developer and they decided to tear it down," he told Lou, and then said to his partner, "Yes, but it's in Chinese… oh right," he nodded, "you can read Ch…thanks."

"Sure," the SEAL nodded and let out a mirthless laugh, "Yeah, _some developer._ "

Danny's tone took on an edge. " _Drop it_."

"Oh, I sense a little hostility there. What am I missing?" Lou wondered.

The two stared at each other across the table for a minute before, "His ex-wife's… now ex-husband?" he looked at Danny.

"I don't know…I guess," he shrugged. "She's never said anything and I've never asked."

"Okay. His ex-wife's, maybe now ex-husband, nobody knows— who also happens to be a real estate developer— tried to screw with him— when Rachel was pissed off at Danny for— pick a reason— by buying his apartment building and evicting all of the tenants. Because if he doesn't have a suitable place to live custody agreements…"

"Get murky and the courts look at you as an irresponsible parent and on and on and on," Lou filled in.

"Exactly. And the really nice condo he wanted to move into, he changed his mind because he thought it was haunted."

" _It_ _ **was**_ _haunted_!" Danny insisted. "I saw the dead woman's ghost and her ghost dog sitting out in the front garden planting."

"You saw a ghost and her dog planting in a garden?"

Danny shot Lou a dirty look.

Steve smirked, "And Danny doesn't like things like that. So then he moves into this windowless shit hole…"

" _Oh my God_ ," Danny muttered under his breath.

"…and I told him that if he ever brought Grace there I was going to call child services myself…"

"So he moved in with you?"

"…no the building was condemned because it was filled with black mold…"

"And then I moved in with him. And you don't think he might have still been pissed off because Jamieson blocked all of his permits because you put a bug in her ear?"

"Who's Jamieson?" Lou wondered.

"First boss," they said in unison, not breaking eye contact with one another.

"Oh, so it was my fault? I wasn't pissed off you dropped your whole entire life to move to Hawaii."

Danny rolled his eyes; knowing damn well Steve was right.

"So how long were you two roomies?" Lou asked, reverting the subject.

"Mmm, about seven, eight months."

"And you two didn't manage to kill each other?"

"Oh," Steve shook his head, "we came close."

Danny laughed at the memories. "What? About four, five hundred times?"

"Give or take."

"Wow. What happened, Steve wake you up for calisthenics at four A.M.?"

"Try having to listen to infomercials screaming through the house at one in the morning."

"You watch infomercials?"

"Yes and he's very talented at it, he can watch TV through a solid surface, like a blanket."

"No," Danny shook his head— promptly ignoring his partner, "I can easily ignore them. If I leave a show or a movie on, I'll just end up watching it; infomercials I tune out."

Lou scrunched his brow and looked to Steve. "You have a four bedroom house and you made him sleep on the couch for eight months?"

Steve opened his mouth to protest, when Danny came to his rescue. "No, he didn't. I chose to sleep on the couch, because he only has the one TV."

"Oh you need the TV to go to sleep?"

"No, the ocean in my backyard keeps him up at night," the sailor supplied.

"Ah, I get it."

"Yeah, well with my divorce and child support, moving expenses to Hawaii and cost of living on an island, it was difficult."

"You got a nice place now."

"Well that's courtesy of my very nice friend here, whom I've wanted to kill since the first day I met him."

Steve smiled big. "Aww, aren't you sweet, Danno."

"I don't follow."

"Some old friends of Steve's dad decided to go live with their daughter in Florida to be closer to their grandchildren. They were planning on putting the house up for sale, but Steve gave them my number and they just had their agent call me instead. And," Danny added, pointing at Steve, "…before you say it, I know, my Chinese sucks…" he finished, picking up a thread from their earlier conversation.

Steve held up his hands in defense, "You said it buddy, not me."

"Oh, so that's how you got a house in that neighborhood," Lou nodded.

"Yep, they gave me a great deal. Carport versus a garage, but hey it's Hawaii. It's a rarity for snow to fall below the mountains," Danny replied before tossing his partner a faux dirty look. "A student is only as good as his teacher."

The SEAL returned the dirty look and the blonde smiled broadly.

"I don't have a problem with the language."

"Congratulations; you just can't teach others to speak it. And you didn't meet me until after Rachel and I had been divorced for three years. How do you know how hot we were?" the blonde asked, instantly regretting the way he phrased the question.

"I'm going to have to admit, I'm curious of that myself," Lou added, both men looking at the SEAL.

"Oh, well that's easy. One you were both still in love with each other despite being divorced. Two, you're part Italian and Italians are known for being romantics. Three, you are actually a romantic at heart. Four, you are apparently a masochist, because she's a devil in a dress. And five, you have two kids, nine years part, with your ex-wife who was married to another man at the time."

Lou gaped, "You had _an affair_ with your ex-wife?"

Danny looked at the Captain; sarcasm was his reply, "You heard the man; I'm a masochist."

The Captain exchanged a look with the SEAL, who smirked and pumped his eyebrows; he took the hint.

"Oh," Lou dragged out the word in a tone that made Danny still— he had the strangest feeling, he knew where this was going, "our boy here has got some _serious_ game. You had your ex-wife leave and still came back for more. And there's Melissa, pretty _young_ thing she is; much younger than you of course."

Danny felt his discomfort grow, especially as his partner's smirk grew across the table. He had a feeling as to what Steve was going to say next.

"Don't forget the doctor," Steve added.

" _Doctor?_ " Lou's eyes lit up, "Well, who gave who the physical?"

Steve chuckled, while Danny said, "She wasn't that kind of doctor."

"Aw."

"Let's not forget the lavender blonde from that convention. The one who liked to dress up?"

"Dress up as what?" the Captain wondered.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, when Danny asked, "Why are we talking about this?"

The SEAL shrugged, "No reason."

"Well, now, wait a minute now…you obviously have some long kept secret to getting all of these women to come back for more."

"Oh!" Steve suddenly shouted. "The model."

"What model?" Lou and Danny asked in unison.

"She had a stalker…and Danny caught her stalker…"

"Oh God," Danny mumbled as he reached up to massage his temple.

Oh, Lou was really interested now. "So I assuming she was grateful?"

"Pretty certain…"

"Steve…" Danny interjected.

"…though for some reason, Danno's _never_ wanted to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"' _Because'_?"

" _Because_ …nothing happened."

" _Uh huh_ …" Steve mumbled, unconvinced.

"Okay, now," Lou tried to be the voice of reason, "if the man's denying that anything happened…"

"If that was the case then how come you all but dropped off the face of the earth for fifty-six hours?" the sailor cut in. Lou looked at the detective in question.

"You timed me?"

"Don't change the subject," he shook his head at the blonde, before looking at the Captain, "His car was in the parking lot of the hotel…"

"Of course I was there; I had to arrest the stalker."

"For fifty-six hours?" Lou wondered. "What, did that particular weekend come with an NDA or something?"

"Oh, that's a good question," Steve nodded, "I never thought to ask that."

"Alright, gentlemen, here are your left overs," the waitress placed a large brown paper bag on top of the table; "and I can take this when you're ready," she went to place the check down on the table.

"Oh, why don't we go and take care of it now," Danny said getting out of the booth and walking off towards the register; waitress in tow.

Steve smirked at his partner's retreating form, while popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

Lou watched the man with an inquisitive eye. "Tell me something?"

"Hmm?" the sailor looked over.

"Have you ever paid for a meal?"

"Yes."

"With money?"

A look of surprise crossed Steve's face. "Yes."

"Hm, okay."

"Are you complaining, Lou?"

"No, I'm not complaining," Lou answered, while digging in the bag for another piece of shrimp toast.

"Sounds like you are."

"I'm not, I swear."

"Better not let Kamekona catch you eating that," Steve warned.

"Which is why they will all be gone before this bag hits the refrigerator at HQ," he said, eating another.

"I thought you were full?"

"Oh, well…. You did do all of that just to get him to pay for lunch, didn't you?"

Steve made a face, "No."

"Mhm."

"Of course he did," Danny said appearing at the table once again. "But the truth is I would have ended up paying anyway. It's been the same story since the day we met."

"Oh my God," the brunette mumbled as he rolled his eyes.

Lou smirked.

"Alright, I'll be fair," Danny said. "I've probably paid for about 95% of meals—breakfasts, lunches and dinners— since the day we met. Trust me on those rare occasions that his wallet has made a guest appearance I've almost fallen over in shock."

Lou laughed out loud while Steve rolled his eyes.

"Why don't we tell him about the time that you stood in front of the bartender and actually checked to see if the bills were real before I could hand them over to her?" Steve said sourly.

"You didn't?"

"Hey, he was paying with hundreds; I couldn't believe it until I saw them for myself."

Lou laughed again, as he pushed himself out of the booth.

"Can you make it big guy, or do we need to pull?"

Holding up a hand in pause, "I got it, I got it."

"Alright," Steve said grabbing the bag from the table and holding it out to his partner.

Danny stared at it for a second; "Oh, do you want me to carry that?" he asked sarcastically, while taking the bag.

The sailor smiled, "That's very generous of you, Danno," as he made his way towards the door.

Though he already knew the answer, "And what are you going to do?" the blonde asked; following.

Lou chuckled as Steve spun the ring of the car keys around his finger and Danny said, "Of course. Hey, I have an idea, since you're always driving my car, why don't I drive the truck?"

"You can't drive my truck."

"Why? Because you say so?" he mocked.

"No," Steve shook his head, "because it's so much taller than your car."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't think you're going to be able to reach the pedals," Steve teased— smirk in place.

" _Excuse me?_ Oh, yeah, so funny," Danny said as the two disappeared out the door.

Lou held the door open for a couple that was walking in; by the time he got outside, he noticed that his colleagues were gearing up for another 'cargument' and he wondered why on earth he didn't drive his own car. It was then a blue sedan pulled up to a stop at the light. On the back window was an etching of Tom the cat and Jerry the mouse chasing one another; above it in white script letters were the words: _'Some relationships are like Tom and Jerry, they argue and disagree all the time, but they still can't live without each other'._

The Captain chuckled to himself once more as he walked towards his friends, "Oh, so true, _so true_."

 _ **Fín**_

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 **Muse's Notes:**

The following fortune cookie fortunes are actual fortunes that have been inside real fortune cookies. The "Tom and Jerry" quote I saw somewhere, I just don't actually remember where I saw it.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.

-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.

-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.

Love, Hugs, and Kisses,

Muse : )


	2. Coca con Hielo (Coke with Ice)

ShakespeareIsMyMuse

 **DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.**

 **I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional; unless otherwise noted*#*.**

*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.

 **Enjoy.**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **SUMMARY:** The random events, goings-on, and short conversational bits and pieces in the daily lives of the Five-0 Task Force—including any and all individuals that they may encounter; basic drabble—piecemeal plot lines which will drift in and out of cannon and AU.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Snippets**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Coca con Hielo (Coke with Ice)**

 *****H50*****

The Big Island was named aptly; it was a big island. It was a fun and adventurous lush green paradise; especially for tourists, because it was the island known mostly for tourism. Of course all Hawaiian Islands experienced tourism from the mainland, the wetlands (cruise ships) and the foreign lands (everywhere else in the world); but the Big Island is mostly comprised of getaway resorts for this specific reason.

Nevertheless, for the just around two hundred thousand permanent residents who lived there—the daily grind was just that, the daily grind. Yes, these were also the same people who knew where the fun was besides the tourist-y spots. Yet they – at least the good ones— were also more prone to stay out of the more dangerous parts…the parts that every place has; the less desirable areas, with the less than desirable folk, who participate in not exactly one hundred percent law abiding activities—if at all. However, it is exactly those _'parts'_ where a couple of Five-0's members find themselves perusing.

It was supposed to take four, five hours tops. A seventy five minute flight from Oahu to The Big Island, grab their suspect, their evidence, a quick chit chat with local LEO's, fill out the transfer paper work, email it on its merry way to Five-0 HQ and a seventy five minute flight home from The Big Island to Oahu— suspect and evidence in tow—, with plenty of time between early afternoon and meeting up with the gang for dinner.

 _Well,_ it _**did**_ take seventy five minutes to get from Oahu to The Big Island…

"Okay, Arturo said that the drugs were in the car. So I'm guessing the least, most obvious place would be the trunk."

"Uh huh," Danny said staring into the trunk.

"What?" Steve wondered hearing his partner's tone.

"There's nothing in here."

"What?" the SEAL barked— in disbelief— as Danny took a step back from the trunk so he could see for himself that the it was— in fact— empty.

"What the hell…? I thought…"

"What? That the two of you _had something special_? Steve, you may have _thought_ that you successfully flirted with him— which was extremely entertaining to watch by the way— and he may have a huge crush on you, but he knows you're not gay. And despite how much he may want it, he knew you were never going to screw him. No matter how much you tried to drag me into it by way of the use of the word _'partner'_. Don't think I didn't catch that…or whatever it was you were trying to go about getting him thinking."

" _Excuse me_ ," the SEAL actually looked and sounded extremely offended, "but for your information, I have past success infiltrating…."

" _With women…"_ Danny cut in— rather harshly, " _in English, or Hawaiian, Mandarin, Japanese,…Korean; you know, one of the five languages_ _ **you can actually speak**_ _… fluently?"_

" _Hey, hey, hey_ , _I_ _ **can speak**_ Spanish," Steve insisted.

Danny gave the man a look; then he gave a light scoff, an annoyed smile and pumped his eyebrows. _"_ Oh, si, claro; esto es mi culpa," he nodded— still annoyed. "Si puede hablar a español tan bien, entonces ¿por qué usted incluso molesté para traerme a lo largo de? ¿Hmm? No es que te falta realmente me a traducir ni nada. Podría haber hecho todo esto por su cuenta y han sido en su camino feliz hace.*"

The former intelligence officer tried his damnedest to follow along, but like the majority of people who either did not grow up speaking or weren't familiar with the language; it sounded like a rapid mass of gibberish to his unexperienced and untrained ear. Instead he responded with one of his famous stony faced looks and half lidded stare; that one that usually worked on everybody…except the blonde standing in front of him.

Danny just stared back, unfazed with an amused smirk forming on his lips. Steve's looked drifted into somewhere between annoyed and pissed; the detective chuckled. When the SEAL's looked soured further, the New Jersey native pulled a tight lipped – satisfied—smiled.

"Oh, shut up…show off."

Danny cupped his ear, "¿Que?"

Yes, it was a smartass thing to do, but it was also a very Danny thing to do.

Annoyed mug still firmly affixed, Steve chewed his tongue as he thought for the proper –Spanish— response. "Kaiyatay ah voca," he sputtered out, slowly.

"Cállate la boca," Danny corrected, but he left it at that. He didn't bother prodding his partner for a translation of ' _show-off'_ , Steve was grumpy enough already; and that was a pretty difficult task to accomplish.

"I don't understand it," Steve growled out two minutes later— slamming the driver's side door shut. "We've looked in the trunk, in the back seat, under the seats, _under_ _the hood—a pretty real stretch,"_ he said in an exasperated tone, "… _even in the goddamned glove box_ — which you and I both know that fifty kilos can't fit in there."

While Steve checked, Danny had stood idly by after seeing that the trunk was empty; the cogs in his brain turning. He then watched the sailor fume while he paced— presumably thinking about ways of inflicting subtle, yet emotionally scarring and long lasting effects of pain on Arturo should they ever cross paths with him again.

The detective blinked and chuckled quietly to himself; sometimes it amazed him that he forgot. He was so used to working with Steve, his behavior, their cooperating behaviors, — so used to compromising on techniques— on getting the bad guys; that it often slipped his mind that they had been trained _very,_ _**very**_ differently.

Sure, they had both been trained to utilize firepower and interrogation, to either remove or neutralize the bad guys— a threat— and they each had similar goals for wanting similar outcomes and go about getting a similar end result. But nevertheless, Steve had still been trained as a solider— A SEAL, an intelligence officer. Danny had been trained as a police officer— an investigator, a detective.

Steve's training meant that he was part of an organization that never slept and was always— actually, physically— looking for trouble. Danny's training meant that no bad news was usually good news and they never went looking for trouble until they were either alerted to it or it just really had to be dealt with.

Steve's end game usually ended with a treasure trove of information and the occasional weapons cache; be it armorial, biological or chemical. While Danny's sometimes ended with information, it more often than not was physical— tangible—evidence he could take to a prosecutor. And for as clever as Steve McGarrett was, Danny Williams knew you couldn't interrogate a Camry; at least not exactly. Steve had also never worked the Narcotics Division.

Stopping himself from wearing a pattern on the concrete, "What's so funny?" Steve wondered.

"You," he answered simply.

The sailor's irritation had grown and he made a sarcastically comical face at his partner. "I'm so happy I've been a source of entertainment for you on our little day trip," he sneered.

"Whoa, what's got your ballistic boxers in a knot?"

The brunette snapped his head up, "Are you seriously busting my chops right now?"

The blonde opened his mouth to say something, but remained— purposefully— silent for a few seconds, before smiling and saying, "Yes."

Steve's face soured even further, "Don't."

"You've spent most of our partnership, not to mention our friendship, doing the same thing to me when I'm not very happy…"

"That's different," Steve cut in.

Danny quirked an eyebrow and chewed his tongue for a second. "How's that?"

"You've never happy."

Rolling his eyes— for what felt like the hundredth time that day — "…as I was saying, why is it okay for me _'not to return the favor'_ so to speak?"

Steve just glared.

A steadfast stare was returned. "Did we get hit by lightning on the plane and cross over into a different dimension or something?"

" _What_?"

"I'm just saying, when did we switch personalities? Because I'm not liking it very much; I like when I'm me and you're…well I've learned to tolerate you being you."

A righteous look claimed the taller man, "So it's like I've always said, you like always being unhappy and me always being right?"

Irritation dropped over the detective's features and he took a deep— and quite possibly mock annoyed— breath. The SEAL pulled a tight lipped smile; that's what he loved about the two of them. Danny would always find— not a silver lining exactly, but— a way to inject his own personal brand of levity into a situation, no matter which one of them was pissed off; though in all fairness it was usually the New Jersey native.

A semi-clenched jaw—perhaps _it_ _ **wasn't**_ _that much_ mock annoyance after all?—, "I get that we've been practicing, but that still doesn't change that fact that your Spanish is basically toddler level."

Steve made another face as he began to pace again— his own thoughts sorting.

"And yes, that is the nice way of me saying pure shit!" Danny snarked— trying to regain his partner's full attention.

It worked, Steve stopped and his glare returned.

Another sigh— however, those he really wasn't keeping track of— , "…You should have just let me talk to him."

"I thought we established this already? He doesn't like you," the sailor argued.

"And he likes you _a little too_ much. So much so, that I think he'd rather see you dead if he can't have you; that or he's smarter than he looks and knows we're cops."

"Trust me; he doesn't know we're cops," Steve assured him. Yet, he did still refuse to admit to the fact that Danny may have been right about the whole _'rather see him dead if he couldn't have him'_ part; for the reason that that one was pretty close to the top of the list of 'things that could really happen'. Just because it involved a man having feelings for another man, instead of the typical man-woman scenario, didn't make it any less likely. It was the twenty first century after all and it had ushered in a whole new line of 'understandings', 'possibilities', and 'yes that could happen's'.

"Mm," the blonde grumbled. "So you're just going to hold on to this notion? Okay, okay, you know what forget it…"

"No, we're not going to forget it…when I get my hands on that little…"

Danny rolled his eyes –one hundred and two— "Babe, listen to me; I want you to think back very carefully –did he say 'están _el interior_ del coche' or 'se encuentran _**en**_ _el interior_ del coche'?"

Steve mentally broke down the sentences Danny laid out before him and translated them into English before taking on a confused look. "What does it matter? They both mean the same thing, _'there're in the car'._ "

The blonde refrained from face palming himself, instead choosing to do it mentally— apparently he wasn't doing very well at trying to teach his partner a sixth language. _"No_ ," he said slowly, shaking his head, flipping his Gerber knife and pulling open the back door, "One means they're _inside_ of the car, the other," he said stabbing the knife down into the edge of the seat cushion and yanking; pulling back the tufted leather to revealed white bricks of powder wrapped in thick sheet plastic, "means they're _**in the inside**_ of the car."

"Oh. Oops," Steve smiled— abashedly.

The blonde rolled his eyes again— one hundred and three by his last count.

The sailor leaned his weight against the paneling of the door for all of two seconds before it suddenly gave way. Steve went down from the lack of stable surface, only held up by Danny catching him under the elbow. However, his pulled shoulder and his partner's strained neck was the least of their worries.

About four dozen black velvet sacks rolled out from the loose paneling and the three that split open revealed a scattered mess of what looked very similar to crushed ice.

Steve's slackened jaw said it all as he traced his eyes back up to the blonde who had suddenly gone very pale.

" _ **No**_. No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Danny groaned as he crawled into the back seat and used his knife to loosen the other door panel. "Oh, no," he groaned again as he dropped another handful of black velvet sacks over the exposed bricks of cocaine.

"Are there more?" Steve wondered as he opened the front passenger seat and began jimmying that door panel loose as well.

"About twenty or thirty" the Detective replied. "You?" he wondered; craning his neck to the front seat just in time to see the SEAL spilling more velvet pouches into the seat. "…What do you think is behind door number four?" Danny asked— trying to inject some levity into his voice, but failing miserably.

Steve shook his head, "I don't want to know…"

Judging on an offhand count of what they had just found, there was at least four hundred and fifty million dollars just in diamonds alone; plus the coke and they hadn't even fully dismantled the car… yet. Not that they really had the time; because off in the not so far distance there was a loud bang of a metal door hitting a concrete wall, a mass cacophony of stomping steel toed boots and at least half a dozen voices heading their way.

"…not that we're going to get the chance to find out."

The voices stopped immediately and the sounds several gun hammers could be heard clicking back as a group of five thuggish looking men stood before them. "What the hell is this? Who the hell are you?' one of the men asked Steve in Spanish.

"Uh…" Steve blinked at the man. When Danny wasn't busy being a prick and flaunting his knowledge of the Spanish tongue over the well-rounded SEAL; he would speak a lot slower, so Steve could better understand the words.

The blonde blew out a long, hot breath as he climbed out of the car. "Uh, fellows my friend here doesn't speak a whole lot of Spanish, you wouldn't by any chance speak English or Hawaiian?" he asked the thugs in— what sounded to Steve like— perfect Spanish.

The man shifted his gaze to Danny. Steve watched as the man said something else he didn't understand, but noted how it seemed to make Danny uncomfortable.

And now the other men were chiming in with random words that Steve understood, but weren't making any sense within the context of this conversation. The first man— the apparent leader who had started questioning them; well Danny, since only he really understood them— fixed the blonde with an odd stare. He then asked what the SEAL assumed was a direct question.

"Sí, entiendo," Danny answered— nodding.

"¿Eres policía?" the leader seemed to want to confirm.

Policía, police—that Steve understood. Then he thought back on the other words that seemed out of place and remembered that Danny mentioned certain words that were used as slang terms for cops; and everything clicked. Although, as to why completely random words were used to describe cops, he hadn't a clue.

"Sí, Five-0."

Noticing the bulge beneath his breast bone, the leader reached for Danny's collar and pulled up his badge from beneath his shirt. He then said something else that Steve was just going to also assume wasn't good news because the other four men with him laughed.

Then one of them muttered what sounded like a curse word and "Gringos."

Though he was used to taking charge, Danny was the one who understood them so he was going to do what partners' did and trust his; but he couldn't help himself as the word "Gringos?" slipped out of his own mouth in a very confused sounding tone.

The other men laughed harder and the leader looked at him before looking back at Danny with a _'you weren't kidding when you said this guy didn't understand'_ type look.

"Ha'oles," the blonde said. Since now really wasn't the time to start giving Steve another language's slang vocabulary lesson he translated it into the simplest term he knew his friend would understand.

"Ah," Steve nodded. The SEAL could tell by the look on his face that the leader didn't like the fact that Danny had now said something that _he couldn't_ understand; and his harsh tone confirmed it.

"No, no, no, no, no," the detective shook his head— clearly trying to placate the man, "It's an island term for gringos," he responded in the foreign tongue.

The leader seemed to take Danny at his word. Then he said something else to him and then to his men; they re-readied their raised weapons once more. Turning back to the partners, "Okay, how you say, hands up, now!" he ordered in heavily accented broken English.

For everything that was going on, the blonde was pretty calm; even his tone. "Oh shit, we're going to die," he said quietly under his breath, his hands high above his head.

Taking stock of the situation around them, "Yep," Steve agreed— holding his own hands up.

 _ **Three Days Later:**_

The remaining members of Five-0 found themselves feeling more than dejected. In the last thirty six hours Chin, Lou and Kono had been to The Big Island and back; all in search of their missing colleagues who had been due back around two o'clock in the afternoon the very day they had left. They coordinated— and of course, took point— with the local island PD who had found Arturo dead— execution style— in the trunk of a Camry.

Local LEO's had also recovered a handful of other known drug dealers and gang members; all deceased. Their injuries were more… _varied_ : one had bled out from a shot to the gut, a couple had broken necks, one died on the table in the OR from uncontrollable, massive internal bleeding, and there were a few that had wide-ranging degrees of burn, char and scorch marks from what may or may not have been an explosion and/or a fire and/or spontaneous human combustion. It was really pure speculation at this point, considering that the ME's office was a bit overwhelmed; they had never before filled all of the drawers in their morgue freezer. They even had to ask a local funeral parlor to hold a couple on ice for them.

However, it was what was and wasn't found that anxiously gnawed at Five-0. Big Island PD recovered and returned two 9mm SIG's, a .38 revolver, an FNX .45, a Bowie knife, a collapsible Gerber knife, a zippo, car keys belonging to a 2013 Camaro, two Smart Phones, two badges emblazed with Five-0, two wallets containing the ID's of— and three boarding passes for a 12:30 pm flight to Oahu— Steven J. McGarrett, Daniel A. Williams, and Javier Arturo Braga, Jr., respectively.

That fact that Steve and Danny's bodies hadn't been found among the wreckage was one of comfort. But what little comfort it was; as both Five-0 and Big Island PD still hadn't any clue where they might be or if they were even still alive.

Kono and Eric each tried to distract themselves with the thought that at least they were together. For some reason, even though they had seen them both get hurt and wind up in the hospital before, in her head, as well as in the eyes of a twenty something kid who basically saw Danny— and by extension, Steve— as a father, could never quite picture either of them being taken down; and if they were together…forget about it.

Chin and Lou didn't want to admit anything either; but they had spent a good twenty years in law enforcement and they knew that sometimes colleagues were lost— no matter how invincible they may seem.

Jerry, on the other hand, was close to being a wreck. He had never had many friends in his life, and he wasn't too keen on the idea of losing the ones that not only had come to appreciate his contributions to society—as unconventional as they might be; but also cared about him as a person.

So it was much to everyone's relief (and surprise; but we will get to that in a few seconds) when Kamekona called Chin to tell him that Danny and Steve were sitting at a table— outside his shrimp truck— sipping longboards; ... _quietly_.

Chin's Mustang pulled up into the beachside parking area; Lou's SUV right next to it. Staring out at the picnic tables—which lined Kamekona's Oceanside grab 'n' go eatery— the group of five then exchanged looks amongst each other through their respective open windows, before refocusing on the two –formerly missing men.

Off in a shaded corner of a palm tree's shadow Danny was lying atop the picnic table staring – apparently, blankly— up at the sky. He had his left leg pulled upright at the knee and his right foot tucked behind his ankle, his left arm tucked behind his neck and a longboard in his right hand; his thumb wedged in the bottle's opening so he could drink it— without spillage—from his position.

Steve was sitting on the bench— his back propped against the table's edge and the back of his head resting against Danny's shin— with his legs— crossed at the ankles— outstretched in the sand. He had his left arm slung carelessly over his stomach and his right draped into his lap; a nearly empty long board in his right hand, resting in the crevasse of his inner thighs.

Though the group had gotten out of their cars and slammed the doors; neither the short blonde, nor the tall brunette seemed to make any indication that they noticed, or that they were noticing anything at all.

Kono cocked her head to the side. "Why is the boss man wearing his dress whites?" She wondered, as Steve was indeed clad head to toe in the outfit. Her brow also furrowed at the fact that Steve's hat was placed on top of the table, instead of on his head, which is where he normally would wear it when he was outside.

"I think a better question is," Lou said, curiosity and disbelief coating his words, "why is Danny dressed like a priest?"

"Well, he's always saying how much Steve is getting him shot at on the job, maybe he wanted a career change; you know, something safer?" Jerry suggested.

Lou turned his head and stared at the man, while Kono smirked.

Chin, too, smiled, "Yeah, but Jerry, you don't just become a priest overnight, or even in three days; it takes about ten years."

"He could have been planning this for a while;" the conspiracy theorist defended. "…sometimes getting information from Danny is harder than pulling teeth. When he wants to share something, he shares it— usually with Steve, they have a weird bond, did anybody else ever notice that?..." he wondered.

Chin, Lou and Kono each let out a short, breathy laugh.

"… and," he continued, "when he doesn't, Steve usually has to either annoy or use some other forcible method to get it out of him."

"Yeah, but you see, Jer, becoming a priest means giving up sex," Eric pointed out, " and if I know my Uncle D, and I like to think I do," he smiled broadly— his overly enthusiastic personality barreling towards the forefront, "it's one of his favorite parts about being an adult."

"My guess is he's not the only one," Chin quipped from behind his cousin; she smiled again.

"Agreed. Which then begs the question, why is Danny dressed like a priest?" Lou repeated, starting at the two men, who had yet to move or even acknowledge the world around them.

Still smiling, "Let's go find out." Eric's mood was brighter than it had been in days. He tried, but failed, to hide the energetic bounce in his step as he quickstepped towards the pair; the gang following in his wake.

Though they were fairly close in age— about seven years—, Kono thought it was really sweet how Eric usually seemed to act like an excited little boy when he saw Danny enter in from somewhere. It took a lot for Eric to suppress the admiration he had for his uncle and push forward his best front of professionalism; especially when on the job.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Eric joked. Chin smiled and pinched the bridge of his nose while Lou just tossed his hands at the comment and shook his head.

Steve didn't exactly smile, so much as a semi-amused look crossed his face and he turned his head against his partner's shin just enough to see his reaction. Danny suppressed the urge to both roll his eyes – he had lost count by this point—and smile. Given how he was dressed, it was an excellent line to drop— it was probably the very same one he would have spit out had he seen someone he knew dressed this way— but right now, he was in no mood.

"Knowing you, that's probably a pretty long list. Sorry kid, confessional's closed today," Danny replied— dryly.

Exasperated, "Where the hell have you two been?" Lou asked.

"The Big Island," Steve replied somberly.

Kono furrowed her brow at the concise remark, before stretching her eyebrows, "Uh, yeah, we know. We saw you that morning when you left and we found your return boarding passes for Oahu along with a couple of other things you seemed to leave behind…your guns and your badges for a starting example?"

"Hm," Danny grunted— softly— almost as if he was thinking about something; something he was missing, "I liked that Gerber knife. It was handy, always sharp, and it folded down really compactly."

"I'll buy you another one," Steve promised.

"It's back at HQ," the Lieutenant informed, "Big Island PD gave it to us, along with the rest of your stuff that they found."

The detective took another sip of his beer, "Cool."

"They also found Arturo Braga in a trunk with two air holes in the back of his head, in case you were wondering," Lou added.

"Figured as much," the sailor nodded.

The blonde seemed to consider something— almost like he was finding the bright side to a less than ideal situation, "Well, at least now you don't have to sleep with him."

Another swallow of beer, "There is that," Steve said.

The group exchanged another look; confused, "Wh.. why would Steve sleep with another man?" Jerry asked.

"Not important," Danny murmured.

Steve shook his head as he stared off at nothing.

"Weren't you two supposed to bring back Arturo— alive?— _**and**_ fifty kilos of coke?"

"Yep," Steve and Danny replied in unison.

"So?" the Captain prodded.

"You said Arturo's dead," Danny reminded.

"Okay, uh," Chin shrugged a hand, "what about the cocaine?"

"Most likely dusting the morning surf somewhere near the California coast line."

" _You_ _ **dumped**_ _fifty kilos_ _of cocaine_ into the ocean?"

"No, no…" Danny shook his head, "the bricks broke open…"

"…and then they fell into the ocean…, well, _after_ the mini yacht turned turtle." Steve finished.

"Yeah, that was fun," Danny said; actually sounding pretty mellow about it all.

"Mhm," Steve grunted in agreement.

This time, Eric's brow furrowed, "Turned turtle? Does that mean it overturned?"

"Uh huh," Steve nodded.

"Why were you on a mini yacht with fifty kilos of cocaine?" Jerry wondered.

"We were useful prisoners, Jer," Danny answered.

"Yeah, a couple of their, uh, _'friends'_ , kind of… _died_ , so they needed _'help'_ carrying their… _stuff_ from where we cut it out of the back seat of the Camry."

The Captain, the Lieutenant and the Officer exchanged a myriad of looks with one another.

"Our snitch is dead and our evidence got washed out to sea," Chin nodded, "but Steve and Danny are alive and, uh…okay…" he glanced at the two men who still appeared semi-catatonic. "Uh…relatively speaking," he finished slowly.

"Not that I'm not glad you two are still among the living, but a dead witness and no evidence means that this smuggling crew is going to be even harder to take down."

"I think that's the least of our worries," the SEAL said.

"Why's that?"

"They all pretty much got a Viking funeral," Danny promised.

"Oh," Kono said.

"Wai…wait, that's self-defense right?" Eric asked— a bit of panic in his voice. "They're not going back to jail again, right? They were taken against their will and no doubt those guys would have…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lou held up his hands in a placating manner, "Calm down, no one's going to jail. It's alright."

"No, someone will go to jail," Steve said, before adding, "…eventually," and draining his longboard.

"What are you talking about?"

"He means whoever has a bad connection to these," Danny said, suddenly pushing a black duffle bag the size of a toaster oven with the bottom of his beer bottle.

No one had taken notice of the black bag that had been wedge between the leg of Danny's black pants and Steve's back.

Eric unzipped the bag only to find it filled with hundreds of small black velvet sacks. Though he had worked in forensics for a short time, there was only one thing he knew of that came packaged like that. He let out a low whistle, "That's a lot of ice. How much is that?"

"Heard one of the pushers claim somewhere around six hundred and seventy three million."

"Diamonds or dollars?" Eric wondered.

This time Steve did smile and Danny answered, "Dollars, kid."

"Wow."

"So, you went to pick up cocaine and a snitch to stop a drug smuggling ring and instead come back with over half a billion dollars' worth of diamonds? Only you two could pull that rabbit out of a hat," Chin nodded.

Eric pushed the bag closer to Chin and then returned to his earlier task. While everybody else had been talking, Eric had been doing what he had been trained to do— observe. All of his observing had led him to multiple facts, the first one was, "Those aren't _**your**_ dress whites; there's no name plate, no pins or stripes and you would never take your hat off outdoors."

"Excellent observation E-train," Steve said— if his tone hadn't been so solemn, one could have distinguished that he was more impressed.

"Yeah, boss, I was going to ask why you were wearing those," Kono said— suddenly remembering that that was what she was so curious about in the first place.

"Yeah, and Danny, why are you dressed up like a priest?" Chin wondered— taking note of the multiple piles of rosary beads tossed on the picnic table.

"Yeah, that's the question I want answered first…" Lou insisted.

"Hold on a second," Eric stopped him, "are these…" he said taking note of the other odd thing he had noticed— which were the seams of the outfits. They were thick and doubled over almost like they were held together with…

Eric tugged at the shoulder seams of both of Steve and Danny's outfits, and the large _**'rip'**_ sound of Velcro echoed, "… _stripper outfits_?"

Chin's eyes popped wide open in surprise, Lou's voice rose up an octave, " _What the hell_?" While Kono's face changed from shock to a grin forming over her lips, with intense curiosity clouding over her eyes.

Jerry just blinked, "Now that is definitely something you don't see every day."

As quickly as they could, Steve and Danny pushed the material back up into place and refastened it; all the while Eric had started laughing— an open mouth grin spread widely over his mug and a look that said Christmas had just come early.

"Okay, I changed my mind," Lou said— shock dissipating— pointing to their clothes, "now this is the question I want answered first."

Danny's face soured, "I don't want to talk about it."

"What?" Eric said in disbelief, "Oh, come on!"

"Eric!" Danny hissed out— harshly.

"Come on, Uncle D?" the twenty-something pleaded. When he heard the deep, annoyed growl emit from the back of the back of his uncle's throat, Eric decided to appeal to his better half; the one who was usually up for just about anything. "What about you, Uncle Steve?" he asked— a waiting, expectant look on his face.

They had all heard it, clear as day; Eric had called him 'Uncle Steve'. Though, both men were adeptly skilled at hiding split second reactions— mild surprise did register over each of their faces. Neither one of them could figure out if Eric had used the term endearingly because he had come to care for Steve over the years—and was very happy, that like his Uncle Danny, he too was still alive—, if it was because he suddenly felt obligated to do so because Grace and Charlie did; maybe… perhaps he was even jealous that they got to do so? Or was he just trying to see if he could 'sweeten a SEAL' by his charm and wit alone into what was sure to be an epic story?

"Come on, there is definitely a story here…and a good one by the looks of it…" he prodded.

Danny closed his eyes and drained the last of his longboard as Steve said, "Uncle Danny doesn't want to talk about it…and neither do I."

Eric cross his arms and almost, almost, seemed to pout for a second; but apparently his brain was working overtime. His eyes traced the empty two empty beer bottles dug into the sand and the ones that now sat empty in their hands. "Alright," he acquiesced. "We've had rough couple of days; some of us more than others. How about, the next round's on me?"

"You're expecting an argument?" Danny asked. "Because you're not going to get one."

"Nah, I just have to get you liquored up enough to the point where you'll spill anything."

Danny cracked his lids to look at his nephew, before looking at his partner, who already had a smirk on his face. "You're _far too young_ for this game; you're going to be drinking _way_ outside your weight class, babe."

"Then it's agreed," Eric stated— smiling broadly, "we'll all meet under the table."

The detective closed his eyes again—a smile forming on his lips. Though Jerry seemed to have spaced out a bit between his tablet and the duffle bag full of diamonds, the rest of Five-0 bit back a laugh. Eric Russo definitely took after the Williams' side of the family.

"What do you say, Uncle Steve?" Eric asked— playfully whacking the SEAL on the shoulder as he did so. He had taken about seven steps when he turned on his heel and walked back to the table. He grabbed the empty bottles, before bending down and kissing Danny on the forehead— then quickly walking away.

The blonde's eyes opened at the feeling and he turned just in time to see Eric's back; glancing back at his friends he saw that they all had small smiles on their lips. "He hasn't kissed me in twenty years."

"That boy loves you, brother," Lou said— finally taking a seat.

"He's a pain in the ass," Danny replied— closing his eyes again.

"True," Steve agreed, "but, Lou's right, he does love you and you love him."

The detective stayed quiet for a second. "Yeah," he decided, "He's a good kid," then added, "when he's not busy being a pain in the ass."

"Isn't that something similar you say about Steve?" Chin wondered.

"Yep."

"And you love him," Kono said.

"Let's not push it."

This time, Steve rolled his eyes, "Oh stop it, you love me and you know it."

"Eh," the blonde shrugged. "…You still suck at speaking Spanish," he added.

The sailor gave him a mock-glare, "I'm only as good as my teacher," he teased in a sing-song voice. Danny didn't respond— verbally, instead he jolted his leg a bit; thunking the brunette in the head with his knee. "Ow," Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Alright, here we go, cold ones all around," Eric announced handing out longboards. "Jerry, you're a vampire right? You only drink after the sun goes down?" he clarified.

Jerry had his nose buried into his tablet as he was already trying to connect the diamond dots. "You are correct. I do not partake in the indulgences of alcohol while the sun is still up. It ruins my mind; I need to be fresh and focused if we're going to get these guys off the streets." His voice was determined and a tad heroic sounding. He only lifted his head when he felt something cold pressed against his shoulder.

"Not bad for a Padawan," Jerry told him; accepting the strawberry flavored seltzer. "But for the record, I prefer raspberry."

Sitting down, "I'm hoping one day, I'll be the Jedi master," Eric teased.

"You've got a _**long**_ way to go."

Eric ignored Danny's comment, "And for the record, I know," he nodded towards the drink, "Kamekona said he just got new cases in this morning and those weren't cold yet. … I thought most men prefer cherry?" he asked, a suggestive— macho tone to voice. "I like cherry," he added.

Kono scoffed quietly, but at the same time smirked – Eric was stilled bogged down by raging hormones; and the age old adage of how women mature faster than men.

Speaking of maturing men, the guys held in their urge to revert back to their normal childish selves simply out of respect for the woman sitting at the table with them. Just because Kono had been inducted into and was used to being in the _'boys'_ club didn't mean the guys went primitive.

Danny reached up from his spot and flicked his nephew – hard— on his ear.

"Ow!" the young man cried out; but he didn't protest to the punishment nor did he ask why he had received it. Perhaps that itself was the mark of the beginnings of maturity?

"So," Lou began— pulling out his wallet. Plucking a bill from the fold and surreptitiously waving it. Chin choked back a smirked and followed suit, "are you two going to explain these stripper outfits or not?"

"Not," the blonde and brunette said.

Rolling the bill up like a cigarette Lou wedged it under the sleeve of Steve's top. The SEAL gave him a look that any other time might have warranted the Captain to take caution against any further actions; but today he stared the sailor down with a broad grin.

"There's nothing that will change your mind?" Chin asked tucking a folded bill into Danny's pants pocket.

Danny opened his eyes again and raised his head, "What are you…?" Sticking his hand into his pocket he pulled out a five dollar bill. Death glare firmly in place, the detective quirked an eyebrow at Chin who started laughing.

Kono was standing up, leaning over the table— inspecting, but not finding what she was looking for, "Isn't there usually some type of special pocket on these things?" she asked tucking her own bills into the back of Steve's collar and Danny's placket* respectively.

Heads turned— slowly— in her direction.

"Officer Kalakaua!" Eric announced— teasingly— with a huge smile on his face.

"So I've been to a few raunchy 'night out' parties with friends. I think I would be hard pressed to not find someone here who hasn't," the officer defended. "Are you two spilling this story or not?"

"You can keep giving us money if you want," Danny said, lying back down on the table, "but we're still not going to talk about it."

"I'm keeping these." Steve snaked the bills away when Lou tried to take them back.

"Me too." The detective shoved the _'cash tips' into_ his breast pocket.

Chin held his hands up in surrender and took interest in the new look of surprise forming on Eric's face— accepting one of the strands of rosary beads he handed over.

"You know I never actually noticed before," Eric said— trying desperately to keep the laughter from his voice— "…that the Catholic cross was so… _X-rated_."

Lou and Kono grabbed the rosary beads from the pile on the table to look closer; Eric was right. These were obviously not normal rosary beads, in fact they weren't rosary beads at all; they were more akin to Mardi Gras beads. And instead of Jesus being sacrificed on the cross, the cross was in fact a giant penis; to make it all the more sacrilegious these were different color beads that glowed in the dark.

Enjoying herself, "Clearly these are Danny's; what's your prop, boss?" Kono wondered.

Steve just gave her a look— it wasn't anywhere near the same one he gave Lou, but, she too, laughed anyway.

Lou was gone— nearly doubled over laughing in his seat; Chin— more reserved, but still—right behind him.

"Are you sure you guys don't want to…?"

"No!" the both stated; firmly.

 _ **Fin**_

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Asterisk Index:**

 _ ***"**_ **Oh, si, claro…,":** "Oh, yes, of course, this is all my fault. If you can speak Spanish so well, then why did you even bother to bring me along? It is not like you actually need me to translate or anything. You could have done all of this on your own and have been on your merry way hours ago."

 ***"Sí, entiendo":** "Yes, I understand."

 ***"¿Eres policía?":** "You're police?"

 ***Placket:** An opening or slit in a garment, covering fastenings or giving access to a pocket, or the flap of fabric under such an opening; most notably the overlapping strip of buttons on a button down shirt.

 **Muse's Notes:**

The following **'Snippet'** was inspired by _Leverage_ (S4,E14; 'The Boys Night Out Job') and my own devious little imagination where I saw in my head both Steve and Danny sitting down sipping beers, someone coming over and ripping down their shirt sleeves and asking why they were wearing stripper outfits. …Yeah, I know…

Also, I would like to state that in this particular piece Danny is fluent in the Spanish tongue. The reason for this being is that I could have sworn back in Seasons 1 & 4 Danny made mention that he could speak Spanish. Now I am not sure if I— for some reason— A.) imagined that fact, B.) got him confused with another character from a different show, or C.) if it was just a continuity issue with a Season 7 episode now claiming that he could not speak but a single phrase of the language. Whichever the correct answer is it doesn't matter; because this is fanfiction and every character here can sprout wings and fly or be bestowed with Superman's laser heat vision for all any of us want.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.

-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.

-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.

Love, Hugs, and Kisses,

Muse : )


	3. Insurrection

ShakespeareIsMyMuse

 **DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.**

 **I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional; unless otherwise noted*#*.**

*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.

 **Enjoy.**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **SUMMARY:** The random events, goings-on, and short conversational bits and pieces in the daily lives of the Five-0 Task Force—including any and all individuals that they may encounter; basic drabble—piecemeal plot lines which will drift in and out of cannon and AU.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Snippets**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Insurrection**

 *****H50*****

It had started out like a morning just like any other, but that didn't mean it would stay that way.

Detective Danny Williams had driven over to his partner's – Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett— home to pick him up. He had been early that day, so Steve had offered a cup of fresh hand ground coffee; which the Detective graciously accepted. Ten minutes later were out the door and seated inside the Camaro— with Steve at the helm— on their way to work.

The drive to work was pleasant enough; minimal traffic. However, that could have been due to what the pair drove up upon when they reached the Palace; all of the traffic seemed to be there.

HPD squad cars surrounded King Street and blocked the parking lot entrances and exits to the Palace, the Forensics Lab and Medical Examiner's Office. Crime scene tape roped off the entire section's perimeter and blue police barricades held back the seemingly ever-growing crowd.

" _What the hell_?" Danny asked of the chaotic scene.

"My thoughts exactly," Steve answered back as rolled down his window. "Excuse me, Officer…"

The officer took a deep breath as if he were annoyed and barely even turned enough to face the car. "I'm sorry sir, you'll need to go around; follow the detour," and with that he refocused his attention to the crowd at the barricades— effectively giving both men his back.

Blinking the brunette turned and looked at his partner.

The blonde let out a light chuckle, "I don't think he knows who we are."

"He must be new," Steve nodded.

"That or we really _haven't_ managed to piss off every other cop in Hawaii to the point where they wouldn't remember our faces."

Steve flipped on the Camaro's lights and gave the siren a short blip. That caught the officer's attention; he walked over to the open window.

Steve pointed to himself, "McGarrett," and then to Danny, "Williams, Five-0."

Danny gave a smile and a short wave from the passenger seat.

The officer had an apologetic look on his face. "Commander McGarrett, Detective Williams, I'm so sorry I didn't realize…"

Danny shook his head, "It's fine; what's going on?"

"Someone or, more likely, a group of someones vandalized the Palace, sir."

"Well, it is May; some high school seniors playing their class prank?" Danny wondered.

"I don't know if this exactly counts as a prank, Detective."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"It seems more like a threat than a prank, Commander. It would appear they've singled out Five-0."

"I still don't understand."

"I think it'd be best if you saw it for yourselves," the officer told them. He gave a whistle and motioned for another officer to let them pass.

Catching their eye, Duke waved them forward past the cluster of palm trees that shaded the eastern side of the building. When the Sargent was certain the Palace was in their view he extended an arm out towards the building. What they saw next would – obviously judging by the – some— frightened, horrified, and shocked expressions on the faces in the crowd— make the average –well intended—layperson's and tourists jaws drop.

Getting out of the car, "Oh," Steve said staring up at the Palace, "That's what he meant."

"Yep," Danny agreed as he, too, exited the car. "That's both pretty singular and threatening."

From the roof of the Palace hung –from its neck— an enormous, bloodied dead pig wrapped in a tarp-like blanket; a dozen black roses wedged in its mouth. Just beneath the gory sight, ' **187 FIVE-0'** was dabbed in— what one could only assume was— dried pig's blood.

"I see you two have also noticed our little fan club?" Chin asked, walking up on the pair; Lou and Kono in tow. "It looks like we _may_ have pissed a couple of people off," he observed— scanning the crowd for anyone who seemed to be enjoying the sight. More often than not that was going to be a person of interest, or they were going to know of someone else who would be.

"' _You have enemies? Good. That means you stood up for something in your life'_ ," Danny quoted.

"Thank you, Winston Churchill," the SEAL remarked.

"I know we're cops and all, but this is something I would expect to see in Southside Chicago or…" Lou trailed off as he gazed at the building in the bright Hawaiian sunshine.

"…Newark? Trenton? Patterson? Camden? Tappan? Harlem? Hell's Kitchen? Bed-Stuy?" Danny rattled off, citing a – rather incomplete— list of major cop hating areas; the majority landing in New Jersey and neighboring New York, before also adding, "Any Chinatown with Triad muscle? Most of Eastern Los Angeles?"

Lou nodded in agreement and then stopped for a second, "Brother, if it's that bad, why are you sometimes so damn eager to go back?"

The two Island natives and the SEAL all turned and waiting for an answer. The blonde thought for a second and the shrugged, "Because once upon a time it was home; you?"

A fondness crept over the Captain's face as he thought about the good times in Chicago, "I get it; agreed," he acquiesced.

"Not to mean to act like the rookie," Kono broke in, "but this is kind of the first time _'home'_ has threatened to kill me on such a broad scale."

Danny chuckled, "Welcome to Paradise."

"' _Come for the sunshine and the view; stay to commit a murder or two'_ ," Steve quipped.

"Oh, Denning's going to _**love it**_ if we slap _**that**_ on a couple of postcards," Chin said dryly.

 _ **Fín**_

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Muse's Notes:**

The following **'Snippet'** was inspired by the penal code turned slang phrase: '187'.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Asterisk Index:**

 **Insurrection:** A (violent) uprising against an established authority or government.

 **187:** For those who do not know…

 **[Legal]:** The penal code for murder, which is generally described as the unlawful killing of human beings, or a fetus (feticide) with malice (as defined as evil intent or desire).

 **[Slang 1]:** As defined to either threaten death or physical, fatal harm by an individual (or a group of individuals) on an individual (or a group of individuals).

 **[Slang 2]:** A term used to describe a death or murder of an individual (or a group of individuals) through the street grapevine.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.

-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.

-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.

Love, Hugs, and Kisses,

Muse : )


	4. The Compliment: Lightening in a Jar

ShakespeareIsMyMuse

 **DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.**

 **I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional; unless otherwise noted*#*.**

*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.

 **Enjoy.**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **SUMMARY:** The random events, goings-on, and short conversational bits and pieces in the daily lives of the Five-0 Task Force—including any and all individuals that they may encounter; basic drabble—piecemeal plot lines which will drift in and out of cannon and AU.

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **Snippets**

 **H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50**

 **The Compliment: Lightening in a Jar**

 *****H50*****

 **July 9** **th** **, 2020**

 **Somewhere in Northern Africa**

 **An Undisclosed Underground Bunker**

"Steve, I'm gonna…" Danny waved his Satellite phone.

"Yeah, go ahead buddy. Tell them I love them, too," he said and continued arranging the equipment inside the duffle bags on the table.

"Will do," Danny said walking out of the crowded room for some privacy.

Waiting until the blonde left the room, "You have got to be kidding me?" Dax Stander said. "Him? McGarrett have you lost your effin mind?"

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"Look I get that he's your friend and your partner, but he's just a cop. A civilian! He's not one of us, he doesn't have our training. He could get himself killed, or worse he could get us all killed."

"Dax, _this isn't that_. Now you said you needed a team of eight. And since this isn't exactly legal, you also said that you already had enough trouble rounding up the other five; especially since a lot of people have wives and husbands and kids. You asked if I knew anybody. Now if I knew where Joe White was I'd ask him, but considering how much he hates you, I don't think he'd even say yes. Now Danny will do this because _**I**_ asked him to. You should consider yourself very lucky; especially since he's got two kids and a nephew that he loves very much and I know he wants to see again, but will drop everything if need be."

Dax sighed. "I don't know about this Smooth Dog, none of the others really want to work with him. I mean, who am I going to put him with?"

Steve stared at the man like he had three heads. "Me. Danny's going to be with me. If this shit goes sideways for any reason because of him, the six of you scramble. No hard feelings; no guilt trips. He'll be my responsibly, nobody else's. I'll take the risk. Alright?" he told him, before looking at the others, "You all good with that?"

Dax shared a look with his other five colleges, who all either shrugged or nodded that they were, in fact, okay with that. "Dog, I sure hope you know what you're doing. That's an awful lot of blind faith you're putting in this guy."

"No different than what all of us are doing right now. How many of us have actually worked together before? No different that when we first joined, we all blindly trusted each other then."

"We also knew that we all had the same training," a female Navy officer, with a hard looking scowl said.

"Alright," Steve nodded at her. "Well you and I have had the same training. And like I said, he's my responsibility, nobody else's. So even if you can't trust him, you can trust me."

"I'm good with it," she said. "A man wants to sign his own death warrant, that's his business, not mine."

Danny walked back into the room, dark Sat-phone in his hand. The room went silent at his return and he immediately felt the coolness and the tension. He looked at each of the stone feces in turn, until he came to one that was much friendlier.

Steve held out a huge black duffle bag and Danny slung it over his shoulder with ease. Grabbing his own from the table, the SEAL spun his partner by the shoulder and steered him back towards the door.

When they got out of doorway, "I, uh, I don't think your friends like me very much," Danny whispered.

"They're not my friends, Danno. Well, Dax is, kind of, it's a long story. I'll tell you on the plane. Look, uh, when we get there, just stay close to me and do exactly as I tell you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing," he nodded, and then asked, "You know what you're doing, right?"

Rolling his eyes, "Yes, Danny, I know what I'm doing," the SEAL promised.

"Alright then, let's go play war games."

Steve chuckled. "Not exactly, pretty close though."

"Kids love you, too."

"I know," Steve smiled. "That's nice."

***H50***

 **One Week Later…**

 **The Palace at** **Ali** **ʻ** **iōlani Hale** — **Parking Lot**

 **Oahu, Hawaii**

"Danny, hold up," Dax called out.

Stopping, the blonde turned. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be…?"

"I owe you an apology. I'm sorry."

"Why's that?" the Detective wondered.

"McGarrett was right."

"Oh?"

"You are fuckin' lightening in a jar, man."

Danny gave a short, light chuckle, " _What_?"

"He said to trust you and that you're a _very un_ selfish person; someone to _really_ count on. _'If you give him the chance, Danny Williams can_ _ **show**_ _you what he can_ _ **really**_ _do. If it comes down to a red line, and he has unquestionably no other choice, he can perform rare feats. And that creative mind, with these moments of sheer, absolute brilliance'_. I think that's one of the reasons he likes being in the reserves. He's been offered some pretty big missions— a lot of coveted covert black ops, you know, some real life _Zero Dark Thirty_ type assignments— and promotions if he comes back full time to active duty. He's always turned them all down and I could never figure out why. The idea of him just being a plain scared little pussy has crossed my mind," Dax said honestly, more focused on the sky than the detective.

The blonde quirked an eyebrow at that one; though he desperately wanted to laugh, he didn't. Truth be told, he actually wished Steve was here right now to hear this. Danny would have loved to see the reaction his partner would have had to being called _'a scared little pussy'_ right to his face. It would have been better than a fight on Pay-Per-View.

When he caught the look, "But then I thought, _'Nah,_ _that can't_ _be it'_ ," Dax amended; waiving the idea away. "And every time he shows up for recertification training he always talks you about— _a lot_ — I never really realized that McGarrett was such a chatter box on down time. I mean, I've been out in the field with him and the man barely utters twenty words. He generally likes to communicate with, with, with _these faces …_ like you're just supposed to know what he's thinking. It's like he looks…"

"Constipated, or maybe having an aneurysm?"

A surprised look crossed Dax's face, "Yeah, he still do that?"

Danny laughed, quietly and shrugged, "Eh."

"Anyhow, I think I get it now. Why he's passed on assignments a lot of us could only dream about getting. It's you."

Danny blinked and his brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Dax smiled and started to explain, "In the service, just like the police, you depend on your brother— and your sisters," he gave a gentle wave at Kono as she passed by, "to watch your back. But sometimes—not all the time and _certainly not everyone_ , but _sometimes_ people, who thought they were up for the task, suddenly might find themselves either regretting their decisions while they are there; or find that standing under and dodging hails of gunfire just isn't as much fun as it was when they were playing _Call of Duty_ in high school with their friends. You have got to be able to trust who you are with, and I'm sure you have heard reports of desertion; that rare solider who leaves their brothers and sisters behind on the battlefield. Again, _not everyone_ , but I won't deny that it's happened. Just like I'm sure you might've run into a dirty cop in your years?"

"Yeah," Danny nodded; he knew what Dax was talking about, "…a couple of them."

"But, you're not all on the take, are ya?" Dax smiled fondly. Though it had sounded like one, Danny knew it wasn't a question. "You go in with your unit, you trained with them and you trust each other blindly because since you are all on the same team, you should be fighting for the same cause. It's a quite a leap of faith; and 99.9% of the time, it's a pretty damn safe leap. But I see now, that with you, McGarrett doesn't have to worry about no decimal point. He trusts you without a shadow of a doubt."

Danny actually felt a little bit embarrassed by Dax's words.

"Look, I know McGarrett isn't afraid to die; I'm not either. But I also know that if you're given the choice between life and death; unless you're a heavy sadist, or already dyin', most people are going to choose life. Now McGarrett will die protecting someone else. He'll die for his country. He'll die for some sort of noble reason; but he won't— just like any normal person with half a brain— _won't_ die for something stupid, like an idiotic or deliberate mistake. Or even worse, _for no Goddamn reason at all_. And a lot of those missions, they're high risk; and you're not in any branch of the military, Danny, which means that he can't take you with him to watch his back. …With the way he trusts you, I know McGarrett is confident that he never has to worry about that tiny, itty bitty pin prick of worry that a lot of people always keep tucked way down deep in the back of their mind; that _'what if'_ scenario of betrayal actually coming true, when you're all but playing Russian roulette with your life."

The slight bit of embarrassment that the blonde had felt before faded and it was replaced by a feeling of honor.

"Look, I don't know how you two found each other, how you guys ended up being partners, hell I don't even know how McGarrett went from active duty, to hopping to the reserves to being a cop attached to an elite task force under the Hawaiian governor. Usually most of us guys and gals retire from the service before joining a police force or even private security. But everyone in Five-0 must be something pretty damn special to land those positions; especially you, Danny."

Danny had never felt so touched in his life. It was quite a compliment; especially from Mr. Stoic himself—even if he was getting by proxy.

"Typical of McGarrett; he generally doesn't crow about much, and certainly not his abilities, but when he really feels like being a prick, he can turn into quite the braggart. You he brags about. Just like lightening in a jar; being able to get your hands on something so powerful and elusive, you want to keep it all to yourself and show it off to the world."

Danny wasn't sure what to do now, the embarrassment was creeping back up again. Though it wasn't the kind that filled you with shame because everyone is staring— it was the kind that you wished people would stop paying you so many compliments in a public setting because people start staring.

Holding out his hand, "It was a damn fine pleasure to work with you, Danny. I admit, I did have my reservations, because I thought this guy's a civilian, and just because he's a cop doesn't mean he's not a liability; boy was I ever wrong. But I will tell you, if you'll have it, or if McGarrett will allow it," Dax corrected himself, "I'd love to work with you again."

"It'd be an honor," Danny said, returning the handshake.

"Honor would be all mine, Danny. It's like McGarrett says, _'Always bet on Danno, and you'll walk away the big winner. Though, don't call him Danno to his face, he don't like it'_. I've been meaning to ask, the nickname, it doesn't seem terrible?"

"It's not," he told him, "It's just that it's reserved for…" Danny was about to say 'my kids', but then said, "…the really special people in my life."

Dax smiled. "So where'd it come from? I mean the name Daniel typically falls into the three categories, Daniel, Dan and Danny. I've got to be honest; I've never heard Danno as a shorted form before."

"It's not," he said again. At first Danny thought about telling Dax the whole story, but decided against it, instead going with, "He just started doing it to annoy me."

"Ha!" Dax laughed, "That is McGarrett, isn't it?"

"Heh," Danny chuckled, "Yeah, it is. …then he swore it was a term of endearment, I gradually accepted it;as such, and that's pretty much where we've stayed these last ten years."

"Ten years? How you manage that?" he blinked. "I didn't know McGarrett was capable of staying with _anyone_ for _that_ long. Guy's love life is a train wreck; then again who's isn't?" he added.

Danny smirked, mostly to himself, as he thought back to a pretty dicey night a decade ago.

***H50***

 **November 15** **th** **2010**

" _Hey, you okay?"_ Danny asked as he came quick walking out to the yard; his gun in his hand. _"Where's Taylor?"_

Turning his head, Steve looked behind him— into the shallow waters that edged his backyard, made to look inky black by the night's sky. _"He's nobody's problem anymore."_

Realizing what he meant, _"Hey, I'm sorry,"_ the blonde said honestly.

The SEAL just shrugged— mostly with his eyebrows; an indifferent, calculating look engraining his features.

Danny sighed. " _You have got to start doing a better job at picking your friends."_

" _Tell me about it. I chose you, didn't I?"_ he smirked.

Scoffing lightly, _"Yeah."_ A few beats of silence stretched, before the detective clicked his tongue a couple of times," _Lucky me,"_ he said, finally, _"Lucky,_ _lucky_ _me."_ Sighing once more, he held out a hand. " _Come on, you're bleeding; let's find someone to look at your head."_

Gripping his partner's hand, Steve stepped over the legs of the corpse in the water. _"There's nothing wrong with my head, Danny; I'm fine,"_ he said—stumbling slightly.

Helping the taller man to steady himself, _"Somehow, I doubt that."_

The SEAL threw him a dirty look.

" _Seriously doubt it,"_ he repeated. He sighed, yet again— resigned.

***H50***

Chuckling, "Oh," Danny smiled, "Just lucky, I guess."

Dax laughed at the look on the blonde's face. "Mhm," he nodded, "or something like that?"

Danny shrugged, but the smile never left his face.

Holding out a hand again, "I do hope we can work together again, Danny."

"Sure thing," he promised, shaking the man's hand once more. "Let's just not make it too soon."

"You got it, white lightening." Dax laughed again as he turned and walked away. "Later, McGarrett," he shouted as he crossed the street to his car.

Steve waved back as he came to a stop next to his partner. "What was that all about?" he asked; pulling a coffee from the tray Danny was holding.

"Hm? Oh, Dax just wanted to apologize for last week. You know, for being such a grade A shmuck..."

"Ah," the SEAL nodded; taking a sip.

"…and something about _'lightening in a jar'_?"

Coughing slightly on the hot liquid, "Ah," he nodded again, before chuckling embarrassedly.

The blonde stared at the brunette for a few seconds, a smile pulled at his lips. He tapped the taller man on the arm as he walked towards the Palace entrance.

Turning his head, Steve stared after him— Danny walked straight-backed and proud, like always— a smiling pulling at his own lips. Nodding, the SEAL took another sip from his coffee cup before heading into the building to start another day…of work…in paradise.

 _ **Fín**_

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-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.

-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.

-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.

Love, Hugs, and Kisses,

Muse : )


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